


Cadfael in Exile

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Cadfael Chronicles - Ellis Peters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-22
Updated: 2004-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-25 03:13:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1628543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Story by Sphinxvictorian</p><p>Brother Cadfael/Hugh Beringar</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cadfael in Exile

**Author's Note:**

> Written for deannie

 

 

"Brother Cadfael?" The peremptory, slightly sneering voice came from towards the door of Cadfael's workshop.

Cadfael did not immediately raise his eyes to look at the speaker, since he knew very well who it was. "Yes, Prior Jerome?" he answered, his eyes on the mixture of arnica and goose grease, stirring it slowly to make sure it didn't clump, as it was wont to do.

"You are to come at once to Father Prior Robert."

Cadfael glanced up and to the side, before returning his eyes to the mixture. Brother Jerome, hands tucked decisively into his sleeves, quivering with his usual indignation and smug superiority, stood impatiently, just inside the door. His face was wearing its usual expression of distaste at the mere sight of Cadfael, to his mind a most unworthy and troublesome monk. Cadfael smiled wryly to himself and then straightened and went out the door to call to Brother Oswin who was weeding the herb beds.

"Brother, come and tend to this arnica ointment; it needs to be stirred constantly and slowly, remember that. Take care that it does not clump."

"Coming, Brother Cadfael," and the lanky young monk rose from his knees and came forward. Bowing slightly to both the elder monks, he went into the hut. Cadfael stood to one side, motioning Jerome to lead the way. Jerome gave a sniff of disapprobation but took the lead.

Arriving at Father Prior Robert's chambers, Jerome bustled inside and then waved Cadfael through into the dim chamber, lit by only a couple of candles and a tiny window high in the wall. Father Prior Robert prided himself on being the most ascetic of any of the brothers at Shrewsbury and he expected the other monks now in his charge to follow his example. One of the candles was on the desk in front of him throwing the prior's harsh angular face into deep relief.

"Well, Cadfael," the prior said, anger in every syllable, "you have finally overstepped the mark. I am absolutely astounded that you have the audacity to still be in this monastery after doing what you've done."

Cadfael's mind raced, thinking back over the last few days, searching for any action or meeting that might have aroused the abbot's anger this time. He'd been on his guard ever since Robert was given temporary charge of the abbey following the sudden death of Abbot Radulfus a year past. Robert had never liked Cadfael, had always thought him a disruptive presence and a dangerous influence on the younger novices. Cadfael knew it was his links to the outside world - the fact that he was still very much interested in more than what occurred inside the monastery walls - that Robert could never understand and indeed regarded as a flouting of all the rules of St. Benedict.

Before Cadfael could summon up any possible wrongdoing in the past few days, Robert continued. "Silent? Well, at least you have the grace to understand the severity of your crime."

"I am only silent, Father Prior, because I am at a loss to know what I am accused of."

The prior straightened in his chair at that and drew a paper to him. "Indeed, Brother Cadfael, then let me inform you that it has been sworn to that you are guilty of the heinous sin of sodomy with one our brethren. I have it here writ formally. What have you to say to this charge?"

Cadfael struggled to maintain his composure, as he frantically searched his memory for any occasion that might have given someone this false idea. Then he tried to think of anyone who would so swear to such an obviously fictitious charge. But when he caught sight of Jerome's smug face, he felt sure the monk knew the culprit. Someone untraceable, probably. Cadfael took a deep breath and, hoping to break through to Prior Robert's sense of fairness, said, as calmly and lightly as he could, "I can say nothing to it, Father Prior, except that it is untrue, completely and absolutely. May I know who accuses me so?"

"That is none of your concern, Brother! It is sufficient for you to know that the charge exists and for you to answer it. Nothing more. According to the Rule, I have no option but to punish you with the lash to teach you the error of your ways and bring you to the right and certain path of God. You will accompany me to the altar now. The other brethren of the choir are assembled. If, after the discipline and a few days of meditation and atonement in your cell, you can swear upon the holy bones of St. Winifred that you are not guilty of the knowledge of another man's flesh, we will welcome you back with open arms. If, on the other hand, you are unable to so swear, you will be driven from our midst! 'Put away the evil one from you!' as the holy St. Paul wrote to the Corinthians."

He rose, implacable as the stones of the Abbey itself, and proceeded out the door with Cadfael and Jerome following after. Cadfael was unafraid of the lash, but it was the greater fear of being thrust back into the outside world that would not let him think sensibly. He walked behind the abbot, dazed, almost unable to believe the whirlwind that was about to hurl him from the safety of Shrewsbury Abbey and into the uncertain arms of the outside world. Where would he go? How could he ever live in the real world again, without the sanctuary of quietude and solace that the monastery provided? He could not swear on the cross that he had never had knowledge of another man's flesh, because he had, many years ago, before taking the cowl. The memory came unbidden, but he forced it away, as they reached the south door from the cloisters to the abbey church.

Cadfael took the blows given him as he lay spread-eagled before the altar. The leather thongs bit into his flesh without mercy, and he nearly bit his lip through in a desperate attempt to not give one cry of pain. At the end, he rose shakily to his knees. He could hear Brother Oswin in the background weeping, and felt a slight balm at the boy's devotion. He tried to stand on his own, but fell again to his knees, bruising them on the cold stone floor. He knelt there a moment, head bent, and allowed himself a few deep breaths to strengthen himself against the pain. Then he felt two strong, gentle hands under his arms, lifting him to his feet.

"I have you, then, Brother. Let us get you to your pallet," Brother Anselm, the hospitaller, softly said, and he and Brother Oswin helped Cadfael to his cell. Anselm was obliged to return to his other duties and left Brother Oswin to assist Cadfael in laying face down on the straw ticking and then hurried down to the infirmary to get some arnica ointment for the wounds.

It was while Oswin was gone that Cadfael was unable to keep up his pretense of stoicism, and he let out a genuine groan of pain and anguish, muffling it against the straw mattress. His despair was beginning to take hold; he knew he had to swallow it back. He allowed a few angry tears to fall and then, hearing Oswin's quick footsteps outside his door, he was able to master himself once more. Oswin was about to try to take Cadfael's cassock off, but Cadfael stopped him, intimating through gesture that he was to tear it. Oswin looked shocked at the idea of tearing an intact cassock and then began to weep again as he tore the cassock carefully along the sleeve and separated it as gently as he could from the bloody welts on Cadfael's back. Once that painful operation was over, Oswin smeared the thick brown gooey substance on each of the wounds with gentle fingers. Cadfael found himself thinking, amidst all his pain, that Oswin would succeed him well.

Oswin dressed the wounds with clean linen and then turned to leave the cell. Cadfael heard him pause at the door and the sound of his sandals as he started to turn back. "Go, Oswin, I am better now."

Oswin left then and Cadfael was alone with his thoughts and his pain. Despair threatened again, and this time he gave into it. There was no possible chance that he would be allowed to stay, unless a miracle occurred to remove both Prior Robert and Brother Jerome from the abbey. Even then, would he be able to convince anyone else? The idea of having to swear that he'd never enjoyed another man, when it was a lie was abhorrent to him. Yet how else was he to be allowed to stay?

For the next few days, though Cadfael tried to meditate on the sin of sodomy, he spent most of his time trying to concoct a method of staying that did not demand perjury. But towards the end of his meditation period, he decided there was no point in continuing to hope for mercy, and that he must simply resign himself to his fate. He would wander out into the world and look for a place to live out his last remaining years in some degree of comfort and solitude. He would not become a hermit. He had not the stamina for that, Cadfael thought, but he could perhaps find work as an apothecary. He would go back over the border to Wales and live out his life with his own people.

His wounds were healing well, and there was no fever, so he felt that he would be able to travel a good few miles the first day, more if he could get Madoc to take him down the River Severn that flowed between the town and the abbey. He would ask for nothing from the abbey, not even his old mule. He refused to be beholden to this house or any other place in Shrewsbury, no, nor any person either. At this thought, a face swam into his mind's eye, a handsome face with a wry smile and dark blue eyes and a cap of dark blond hair. Hugh Beringar. His good friend, the Undersheriff of Shrewsbury. He couldn't go to Hugh. The idea of his dear friend knowing the reason for his disgrace was too much for him to bear. There was another difficulty as well.

Lately, there had been problems between Hugh and his wife, and the result had been Hugh spending a lot of time propped up in the doorway of Cadfael's workshop or leaning against a tree near the river, pouring out his problems to his friend. Hugh had been very frank about the details of their conflicts and Cadfael had felt the old stirrings again, of the jealousy that he always felt towards Aline and of Cadfael's wanting to spirit Hugh away from her and keeping him all to himself. These feelings had been plaguing Cadfael since the day of Hugh's marriage. Because, if Cadfael was completely honest with himself, he had fallen in love with Hugh the day that Hugh had let Godith Adeney go and had asked for Cadfael's friendship soon after. It had been impossible to refuse that intense blue gaze directed at him, assessing him, fascinated by Cadfael's colorful background. So, no refuge could be sought with Hugh, or the same sin that was sending him from his comfortable monastery would rear its head again.

Could he leave Shrewsbury and have Hugh not know about it? Hugh's men would surely see Cadfael leave the abbey with his few possessions on his back and inform their master. He must take care that he not be seen, which meant hiding out until evening and sneaking away to the south and west along the river so as to skirt the city walls and go unobserved by Hugh's men.

The morning after he had made his peace with his fate, Brother Jerome appeared at the door of his cell. Cadfael rose carefully to his feet, having already dressed in his extra cassock with the help of Brother Oswin. The rough material rubbed unpleasantly against his healing welts as he followed Jerome down to the abbey church.

Prior Robert was standing beside the tomb of St. Winifred with the other brothers clustered behind him. Jerome moved to stand next to him and Cadfael observed the two men's satisfaction at his own painful movements. He knelt slowly at the tomb, laying a reverent hand upon the stone sarcophagus. The Abbot loomed over Cadfael and intoned, "Brother Cadfael, are you prepared to swear on the holy remnants of St. Winifred that you have never had knowledge of another man's flesh?"

The silence was profound, Cadfael could hear his own heart beating in his throat as he closed his eyes and answered, in as firm and calm a voice as he could muster, "Father Prior, I cannot so swear." The gasps of twenty of his brethren echoed through the aisles.

He would almost have smiled at the evident delight on the face of both Prior Robert and Brother Jerome, if he hadn't felt so sad at the whispered protest by Oswin.

"Then, Cadfael, you have only an hour to collect a few bits of clothing and food. You will be driven from this abbey and you may not return. Brother Oswin, you may assist this man, but you are not to have any converse with him or you will share his fate."

With that, the prior and Brother Jerome turned on their heels and marched off. The other brethren, with evident discomfort, scattered to their abandoned duties and left Oswin to silently follow Cadfael out of the church and back up to his cell. Cadfael sank down onto the bed, suddenly dazed with uncertainty as to how to go on.

Oswin stood watching him for a moment and then, more decisive than Cadfael had ever seen him, nodded his head and left the cell. He came back with food, accompanied by Brother Anselm, who simply looked down at Cadfael, smiled ruefully, shook his hand, then laid some simple traveler's clothing and a sturdy staff on the chair next to the food before departing.

Oswin bandaged the wounds and packed everything, including the ointment, into a leather satchel. Cadfael tried to get down to reach something under the bed, felt his wounds pulling, and stopped.

"Brother Oswin, would you fetch that bundle out for me? It pains me to bend so far." Oswin opened his mouth to respond, but Cadfael held his hand up peremptorily, "No, my brother, do not speak, it is forbidden by the Prior for you to speak to me. Now stand back, Oswin. No, boy, you mustn't say anything, just let me go."

Cadfael grasped his staff and slowly began to walk out of the room, down the stairs, along the cloister and out into the Abbey grounds. The sun dazzled him for a moment after the cool dimness of the abbey. He made his way to the Abbey door, and Oswin, who had followed him unbidden, took down the bar and opened the wooden door for him. Just as Cadfael was about to step through into the world outside, Oswin whispered, "God's speed, Brother Cadfael!" and squeezed his hand. Then Cadfael was out the door and gone.

He stood for a moment, leaning against the outer wall of the Abbey enclosure and closing his eyes as a wave of unreasoning fear swept over him. A dull pain from his healing wounds went through him. He was too old for this. He suddenly felt every day of his fifty years fall upon his shoulders. Cadfael moved along the road to the east and around the Abbey walls and over into a copse of trees near the brook. Hiding himself in a clump of bushes near the water, he waited for nightfall.

The sun had been below the horizon a good half hour before Cadfael bestirred himself from the light doze he'd been in. He pushed himself up using the staff and moved toward the bank of the mill stream. Hunting for a moment or two, he found old Dyfed's boat pulled up where it usually was at the end of the day. Cadfael climbed in and rowed himself across, pulled the boat back up on the other bank, and left a penny on the seat.

Then he went south along the river for a while, keeping to wooded areas. He hoped to reach a point in the river down stream where he could find old Madoc, often about at this hour, to take him down river. He continued along his way a little. Then he heard a sound behind him, a twig broken by another's foot. He whirled, staff raised to protect himself. A figure emerged from the gloom, fair hair glinting in the dim light of the moon.

"Oh, Cadfael!" It was the gentle voice of Brother Mark, teasingly reproachful. "You would offer a show of violence to a fellow monk? You are indeed fallen low!"

"Mark! What are you doing here?"

"I am quite adept at following transgressors who are attempting not to be seen. Remember young Jocelyn Lucy?" Cadfael nodded, wearily. "So, now you have fled, refusing to fight for yourself, as you have fought so many times for justice for others."

"Mark, you do not understand. I am no young layman falsely accused. I am a choir brother of this house of Shrewsbury, and I have been banished by my abbot. I have no choice but to go."

"But you are falsely accused, Cadfael. Oswin has told me all." Mark's eyes glinted with what, in a lesser man, would have been wrath. "I know that you are innocent, so why do you not attempt to fight this? It is not even as though Father Prior has been confirmed as abbot. He is only holding the office until a replacement can be found for Radulfus, which gives him only temporary powers. Why do you not come with me to St. Giles until the new abbot arrives?"

"I can never return. I have been expelled permanently, and there is no Radulfus to save me this time. And, even if this false charge were to be lifted, I have no assurance that the new abbot will be as supportive of my odd ways as either Herribert or Radulfus." He looked at the young monk standing before him, face earnest in the bright moonlight. "Ah, Mark. You have such faith in people. It must be hard for you to see that they can be flawed. Well, just such a flawed man am I. I have tried the life of the contemplative. Indeed, I was happy in it, but God has seen fit to send me away from Shrewsbury. This exile may be a trial I must undergo, in order to be even more worthy of his love and grace. So I will follow my destiny and be happy to do so."

Mark looked dubious at this notion, but Cadfael placed a hand on his arm reassuringly. "I will be fine, Mark. I will drift back over the border into Wales and find a place in a village and ply my herbs and potions for a time. I will take what God gives me and be content."

He hitched his leather satchel up higher on his shoulder and gripped his staff and turned away to continue on his journey.

"Farewell, then, Brother Cadfael. I hope to see you again before long."

Cadfael did not answer but, without turning, raised a hand in farewell and walked on.

As he'd hoped, a short way down the river he found old Madoc dozing, stretched out in his little coracle. Cadfael knocked against the side of the boat with his staff. Madoc started awake, blinked a few times, and then, seeing Cadfael's figure silhouetted in the moonlight, said, "No ferrying today, traveler. Go on your way." He settled back down to sleep.

"Not even for an old friend, Madoc?"

"Brother Cadfael?" Madoc sat up abruptly and scrambled out of the boat. "Are you in disguise, brother? Is there some mischief afoot that you are investigating? Can I be of aid to you?"

Cadfael smiled indulgently at the man's over-eagerness. Madoc had helped many times in finding clues to the mysteries presented to Cadfael over the years. "No, Madoc, not this time. And it is no longer Brother Cadfael. I am just Cadfael now."

Madoc looked at him long and hard, then nodded his head. "Wondered when this would happen finally. Humph. It was that Prior Robert, you'll be telling me next. He's hated you for years. Trumped up some charge, I'll wager. God curse him for an overly ambitious bastard!"

"Madoc! You may not say such things! Father Prior did what he had to in the face of accusations that I could not refute fully. It is not for you or me to judge him." Cadfael took a deep breath and willed himself to believe what he said. "That is for God to do."

"And may he do it quickly then, say I! Well, climb in the boat, Cadfael, and I will take you wherever you want to go."

"Take me down the river a little way, Madoc. That is all I require. Thank you, my friend."

Madoc held the coracle while Cadfael climbed in and settled carefully into place. Getting in the boat himself, Madoc rowed them out to the middle of the river and then downstream they went.

A day later, Cadfael found himself a mile or so into Wales. Madoc had not taken no for an answer and had taken Cadfael over the border, letting him off near the town of Knockin around dawn. Soon after disembarking, Cadfael felt the long night and the pain of his still healing welts steal over him in a wave of weariness. He found a disused barn and went to sleep after a quick meal of bread and dried beef.

He was awakened by the sound of footsteps outside the barn. It was now night and, fearing bandits, his hand felt for his staff and found it where it lay a foot away. The rotted wooden door swung aside and a candle lantern preceded a tall figure into the barn. Its light touched Cadfael's face and the figure stopped, and then held the lantern high, revealing the worried face of Hugh Beringar, undersheriff of Shropshire.

Cadfael's hand loosened on the staff and he started to sit up, too quickly. He gave a little groan of pain as his wounds, and his stiff limbs, protested. Hugh rushed forward to kneel beside Cadfael, supporting him with a strong arm around him.

"Hugh, you should not be here. Go back to Shrewsbury; I'm perfectly fine." Hugh looked unconvinced. "I do not need rescuing, I can assure you."

"With all due respect, old friend, I will not go back. You are hurt, you are alone, and you need my help, no matter what your old Crusading bones may think."

Hugh took a wineskin filled with watered wine from off his shoulder and pressed the mouth of it against Cadfael's lips. The warm, slightly sweet liquid revived Cadfael a little. Coughing, he sat up, putting some distance between himself and the welcoming warmth of his friend.

Cadfael looked over at Hugh. "Brother Mark told you? Or was it Brother Oswin?"

"It was Brother Mark - although it should have been you, Cadfael! Why did you skulk off without a word to me? Mark says you are not guilty of whatever it is that they accused you of. So why the secrecy?"

Cadfael was silent for a moment and then he said, "I didn't want to involve you. You have been having enough troubles with Aline and with Earl Roger."

"Cadfael! You are my dearest friend in the world. Why would I not want to know that you'd been banished from the abbey? From the life that you had chosen for yourself?"

Cadfael shrugged but said nothing.

"Well, it's a good thing I finally tracked you down. A bit of gold and a lot of wine bribed Madoc to take me to you. I took a chance that you might be sleeping here, after checking the nice inn in Knockin." Hugh snorted. "Your monkish days are over. This mortifying of the flesh is no longer needed, surely. You are a ridiculous man, sometimes, Cadfael." He paused and took a sip of wine himself. "Have you food?"  
Cadfael silently showed him the bread and beef and his skin of water, laced with vinegar. Hugh rolled his eyes heavenward and went outside to his saddlebags, coming back with his own, much larger, sack of food and another wineskin.

Cadfael grinned wryly, and accepted a large hunk of cheese and a hunk of Hugh's finer bread.

"So, what are you going to do now, old friend? Now that you've done with the contemplative life. Will you go back to your old worldly ways? Or perhaps you'll go and find Richildis and finish what you started all those years ago. Mannerley's not far from here. I hear she's still living there with Edwin and his new wife."

Cadfael finished chewing and said, "No, I'm too old to be a soldier - or a lover. I shall retire quietly to a small village here in Wales and be an herbalist."

"An admirable ambition. Just exactly what were you accused of?" Hugh added, trying to sound casual. "Brother Mark would not tell me."

Should he answer? Cadfael was reluctant to tell Hugh, of all people, the circumstances of his expulsion. This was why he had snuck off, so that he didn't have to tell Hugh, the man he loved best in this world, that he was accused of buggery. Even more, he did not wish to admit that the charge though false, had once been true. Cadfael looked at Hugh's face, rugged features a little more pronounced in the dim flickering candlelight of the lantern. Yet, how could he not tell Hugh? He was the one person in the world Cadfael was sure would understand, would not bolt from the room without listening.

Perhaps it was the warmth of the wine which made him bold, but out came everything.

"Very well, Hugh. I am accused of sodomy with another of my brethren. This accusation is indeed false, but after my flesh was mortified and I was left to meditate upon my sin, Father Prior required me to swear upon the holy relics of St. Winifred that I had never carnally known another man's flesh." He had been staring at the lantern while he talked, but now he lifted his eyes to Hugh's dark blue ones. "I could not do that, Hugh. I could not swear that I had never known another man's flesh because I had."

Cadfael waited for Hugh to react in some way. But Hugh's eyes were as friendly and encouraging as if Cadfael had admitted to the most innocent sin in the confessor's manual, rather than one of the worst.

Hugh smiled and said, in a soft voice. "It's not unheard of, Cadfael, for a man, especially a man who was as worldly as you, to have indulged in that sort of thing at one time or another. I know that I have. If you tell me your story, I'll tell you mine."

Cadfael blinked at him, stunned for a moment at the frankness of the conversation. But then the wine, or the relief of confession, took over again and his story came out.

It was on the march through France, on the way to Italy and the Bosphorus, that he had met Gilles de Montgomery. Already a seasoned knight with many a battle behind him, Gilles had taken the young Cadfael under his wing, teaching him many things about the life of a soldier. They had become lovers their first night in the Alps, Gilles sharing his blanket and his body with the uninitiated but eager young Cadfael. It had been many months since either of them had lain with a woman, and their passions were high.

The relationship had seemed natural to both of them, nothing like the evil horror of which the priests warned. Their easy camaraderie turned to sport at night. There were jokes from some of Cadfael's fellow men-at-arms at how much time he was spending with such a highborn knight. Cadfael's sergeant Rhys, an older man who'd joined at the same time as Cadfael and from the same village, was the only one to not scoff, though he warned Cadfael against too close an attachment to a fellow soldier, especially one of superior birth. But the young blood flowed warm in Cadfael's veins and he would hear none of Rhys' warnings. He and Gilles were together until the day Gilles died.

Cadfael shuddered, remembering the sight of his lover's blood running down his face from the deep head wound. Ignoring the weight of the ring mail, he had caught Gilles as he had fallen from his destrier and the two men had rolled in dust of the Holy Land mixed with the blood of their comrades. They lay as dead for some minutes until the heat of the battle had moved on and they were alone. Cadfael cradled his lover's body to him, willing him to live even as the life was ebbing from his body. Gilles had looked up at him, smiled that crooked smile of his, touched two fingers to Cadfael's cheek, and then breathed the rattle of death as he went slack in Cadfael's arms.

Cadfael had sat there in the midst of death, protected by sorrow's luck from being hit by some random arrow. Just as the battle began to move back towards his position, he felt a tug on his arm and heard Sergeant Rhys's voice through the heightening noise of battle, "Come, Cadfael, you must leave, boy. Leave him now, I'm telling you, come away!" The urgent note in his voice penetrated Cadfael's daze in time for him to raise his sword to block a blow from one of the Saracens.

After that battle, Cadfael fought like a demon possessed. Nothing touched him. For months he thought himself completely soulless. He committed atrocities that still haunted his dreams. Then he met Mariam in Antioch and she opened the keep of his emotions. She held him through the nightmares, listened to his endless stories, and loved him well. He had been sorry to leave her, but he had ever felt the outsider there, and wished to see his country once more.

Only when he returned to England, did he decide that he must atone for the sins he committed as a soldier by turning to the contemplative life. The peace it had given him was beyond price. Cadfael had devoted his life to God, and to God's justice, and he had never been happier.

"So you see, Hugh, I cannot swear that I have never known another man's flesh. It would be an offense against Holy St. Winifred if I did." Cadfael stared at the ground, and then lifted his gaze. "And an offense against Gilles."

Hugh's eyes were unreadable in the pre-dawn gloom. "I can see that, Cadfael. But you are not alone, as I said. Many of us have experienced such temptations in our lifetime. I daresay, even Father Prior has a deep dark guilty secret of his own." His grin flashed briefly in the dark. "My own story is not nearly so exotic as yours. My tempter was simply a fellow page of mine, when I was thirteen, in the service of Earl Ranulf, and knew nothing of women's charms. I loved Aelric though, in my youthful way. We comforted each other through the worst of Ranulf's tempers and kept each other warm on cold nights."

"Have you never felt such promptings since?" Cadfael heard himself ask, tentatively.

Hugh was silent for a moment. Then he asked, softly, "Have you, Cadfael?"

Cadfael wanted to say no, wanted to keep things as they were. But some part of him, still eased by the wine, forced him to say, "Yes, Hugh. Only once."

He felt Hugh's hand on his shoulder, a touch meant to be roughly comforting. But instead it was acutely disturbing. Cadfael found himself leaning into that hand. More, he wanted to lean against that slim strong body and feel those arms about him. Hugh's hand remained on his shoulder for a moment, and then began to slide across Cadfael's broad shoulders.

With his arm thus around Cadfael, Hugh said, quietly, "So have I felt, once, my friend. Do I need to say more?"

"No, Hugh. Indeed, it would not be prudent for to do so. I have left the Abbey but not my vocation. I am still celibate and will be until my dying day."

"You are ever sent to torment the life out of me, Cadfael," Hugh said, standing up suddenly. "For God's sake, man, you are free now, free to love whom you like, be with whom you want. Why deny yourself now? Contemplation is over, Cadfael, life is beginning again. Grasp it." He held out his hand to Cadfael.

Cadfael looked away, shaking his head.

Persistent as ever, Hugh knelt down at Cadfael's side, and took Cadfael's hand. "Must I say it then? I will. Cadfael, you have ever been a good and loyal friend to me, but for some years I have felt more than friendship warrants. I feel a bond with you that I have never felt with any other man. This is more than friendship. I know it, and so do you."

Cadfael turned his head away, unwilling to let Hugh see the answering love in his own eyes. But Hugh took Cadfael's head between his hands and turned his face back toward Hugh's own. Dark blue eyes searched pale blue until, finding what they sought, the eyes closed as Hugh leaned forward and let his lips brush Cadfael's. A spark lit between them. Cadfael, in pain, miserable, and full of wine, surrendered to his impulses at last. He kissed Hugh with all the pent-up fervor of his celibate years.

Hands explored underneath clothing, hose were pushed down and aside. Hugh was deft, his hands callused from sword play as he touched and caressed. Cadfael's hands were also callused from his work in the herbarium, unmistakably a man's touch as he first pulled and stroked, and then ran his hands over Hugh's buttocks and back between them. Hugh gasped as Cadfael caressed the secret place and then murmured in Cadfael's ear, "Yes, do it. Do it! I beg you!"

Dazed with passion, Cadfael turned Hugh to face away from him. Hitching up their tunics, and spitting into his hands to facilitate entry, he pushed inside Hugh slowly, achingly slowly. There were no words now, only blissful tightness, the feel of the lean body and surprisingly lush buttocks straining back against him. It did not take long, a few hard thrusts, until he came. A few strokes of his own knowing hands on Hugh more, and soon they were both lying spent, Hugh wrapped in Cadfael's warm embrace. They fell asleep then, and did not rouse until the sun was higher in the sky, shining in through the gaps in the boards of the barn.

Cadfael was the first to awaken, sprawled indecorously over the still-sleeping Hugh. At first he did not remember what had happened, only suffering the once-familiar feeling of too much wine and not enough food. Then he looked down at himself. When he saw his nakedness, he immediately tugged down his tunic and rolled away. Hugh, missing Cadfael's warmth, woke and sat up, his tunic falling to cover the evidence of their sport.

There was a movement outside and Hugh jumped to his feet, grabbing for his discarded sword. Cadfael stood also, staff at the ready. The door opened on Brother Mark.

His eyes seemed to miss nothing, sweeping across their lack of hose and general dishevelment. His innocence missed everything, though. Mark grinned happily, not understanding the implications of what he saw, and began to speak before they could say a word.

"Brother, my lord Beringar, good news! Father Prior is not to be abbot after all! A replacement has been found for Radulfus and he has sent me to find you to discuss your case. He has sent Brother Prior to his cell for three days of meditation because of his use of the lash upon you, Cadfael. Our new Father Abbot is a good man, one who heard much of you both from Radulfus and from Brother Herribert. He will listen kindly to anything you have to tell him, I'm sure of it. But I must haste and return to say you are coming."

Cadfael stood stunned, staff still upraised in his hand, at this sudden turn of events. Surely, this was a sign of God's continued grace, to allow him a chance to continue his life of contemplation despite his grievous sin. Then he nodded to Brother Mark, saying, "Speed you home, Mark. Tell the new abbot - what's his name?"

"Martin, brother. He comes from the abbey at Lincoln. You will come quickly?"

"Tell Abbot Martin I will be there soon after you arrive. I must discuss one or two things with my lord Beringar."

Mark smiled at them both, turned, and left.

Hugh and Cadfael were both silent as they both retrieved their hose and put them back on. Cadfael was glad that Hugh was not speaking, for he was afraid of what Hugh would say when he did finally speak. Those fears were realized the next moment, as Hugh said, "So that's that, is it? You're beaten within an inch of your life and expelled from the Abbey on a false accusation, and now you'll go crawling back and beg forgiveness, while your tormentor gets to sit in his nice warm cell for three days?!"

"Yes, that is what I must do, Hugh. I am not fit for this outside world any more." Cadfael took a deep breath. "I am best off, happiest in the abbey. So that is where I must go, if only to see if I can reenter my cloister." His eyes met Hugh's own. "And, as others have pointed out, I must return so that justice can be done."

"And what of this morning? Will you bury that as deeply as you did Gilles de Montgomery? Will I be only another memory that you keep for beating yourself with during your examinations of conscience?"

"This morning, Hugh, was a wonderful time." He would not speak to Hugh of the sin that accompanied the glory. "But through this wonderful time, God is showing me that I am meant to lead the contemplative life. I must go back. This was as fine an experience in the world as I could ever know. I cannot ask God for more mercy than this. You have given me a gift of happiness that I will take to my grave. The fact that you loved me enough to give yourself to me is something I will treasure forever. It will be a memory of perfection."

Hugh's eyes were suspiciously bright, a sight Cadfael almost could not bear. "What - what if Mark had not come this morning? Would this have been the only time? Or would we have known each other over and over, until we were completely sated?"

Cadfael swallowed, but managed to say, calmly, "Oh, Hugh, it would have been only once, no matter what happened. You have a wife and duties back in Shrewsbury. How would we have been able to share our lives, knowing that we built on sin? No, better that we knew each other only once and can hold that memory dear." Cadfael moved towards Hugh, although he would not let himself touch, much as he longed to hold Hugh close. He felt Hugh lean towards him and Cadfael backed away a little. "I hope that you will not pine for me, now." He forced himself to smile. "Or burn for me. You must be easy or we can no longer be friends, which would take away any happiness this has afforded us."

Hugh nodded fiercely, squeezing the tears from his closed eyes before opening them again. Then he smiled, wryly and said, "As if I could stop being your friend, Cadfael. What would you do about your mysteries if you didn't have me to back you up with my sharp sword and my not-so-sharp intellect?"

"You malign yourself, Hugh, your intellect is as sharp as your sword, you just misapply it at times." Hugh made to cuff him on the shoulder but instead drew Cadfael close in a hard, one-armed hug. He whispered as he held Cadfael to him, "I will never forget this, and I cannot promise that I won't desire another such morning, Cadfael. But I will be happy if you are happy in that cloister of yours, and I will be your friend until the day of my death." He drew back and frowned. "But if they will not have you back, you must come to me."

Without answering yea or nay, Cadfael clasped Hugh tightly with both arms. But he let go as Hugh let go, and they both set about packing up Cadfael's few belonging before they left. Hugh refused to let Cadfael walk and they rode back to Shrewsbury, with Cadfael clinging on behind Hugh for dear life. He had never liked these huge palfreys even as a man-at-arms, and wished he had old Daisy his mule instead. Hugh told him to stop grousing as they reached the horse ferry just up the river which Hugh had used to get across the night before.

A day later, Cadfael was stretched out on the floor of the chapter house, face down, listening to the judgment of his new abbot.

"Brother Cadfael, you have been accused of the sin of sodomy with a brother of this house. Who does accuse him so?"

A young brother, only just past novice, spoke up, his voice quavering between man's tenor and childish treble. "I, Brother Joseph, was the one who signed the accusation, Father Abbot. Though I must confess to you now, before my brethren and before Brother Cadfael, that I was forced to do it. It was a false accusation, Father Abbot, and I was made to sign it."

A rumble went through the other monks assembled. Cadfael himself stirred where he lay, sensing the relentless, if virtuous, hand of Brother Mark at work. What youngster could hold out against that determined, modest sanctity?

The Abbot allowed the brethren to still before he continued, "Indeed, brother, and who forced you to sign this false accusation?"

Cadfael could hear Prior Robert, called to the chapter meeting from his meditative confinement,coughing in his dry way. Then Brother Joseph answered, "It was Brother Jerome and Prior Robert, Father Abbot."

Absolute silence reigned in the chapter house, broken only by the sound of sandals scuffing against the stones. Cadfael breathed deeply the peppery scent of those stones under his face, and waited for the abbot's pronouncement.

"I thank you, Brother Joseph. You will spend a week in your cell, on bread and water, contemplating the weakness which allowed you to be so coerced."

"Yes, Father Abbot."

"Brother Cadfael, raise you up, and sit you down." Cadfael got awkwardly to his feet and went to sit in the wooden stall near Brother Oswin, who beamed at him with welcome.

The abbot - a man of his own age, Cadfael now saw, with a kind, jovial face - continued. "Prior Robert and Brother Jerome, I fail to understand your need to do such a heinous thing to a fellow brother. How do you defend yourselves?"

The two monks came forward. Prior Robert spoke first, head still held high, in spite of all. "Father Abbot, I realize that our methods were devious, but the outcome was for the greater good of our beloved abbey. Brother Cadfael is a disruptive influence on the younger brethren, and he has always taken far too much interest in the world outside of the abbey walls. I merely sought to rid us of such a troublesome individual."

"I have heard much of Cadfael's 'troublemaking', Prior Robert. According to Brother Herribert and to the late Abbot Radulfus of this abbey, his 'troublemaking' and 'interest in the world outside the abbey walls' has saved many a life in this town and shire and brought much fame to our abbey and the town of Shrewsbury." The new Abbot's eyes narrowed. "Surely this can be nothing but good. He is to be restored at once."

Brother Jerome came forward at this and said, his eyes darting right to cast a superior glance at Cadfael, "One moment, Father Abbot, if I may. The written accusation is indeed false, as you have ascertained. However, when Brother Cadfael was asked to swear that he had never known another man's flesh, he could not do so. Perhaps he can explain that to us?"

Cadfael's heart sank. Now he would have to confess his previous sin to the abbot in front of the other brethren. His two sins now, he realized, thinking back on the morning before. Hugh's grin flashed before him in his mind's eye as he gathered his nerve to stand.

But the Abbot spoke before he could. "Cadfael was a man of the world before he came to us, is that not right, Brother Cadfael?" Cadfael nodded, mutely. "Then it is most likely that this sin was committed before he entered this abbey, where he could repent and sever himself from further occasions of sin. Again, am I correct, brother?" Cadfael nodded again, still not able to say a word. "Then it has been confessed to one of my predecessors and it is none of our affair. Is that all, Brother Jerome?"

Jerome's face had gone a shade of red usually found only in a boiled beet. Prior Robert spluttered and tried to speak, but Father Abbot rose and said, "This chapter meeting is over then, except to put Prior Robert and Brother Jerome to meditation in their cells for two weeks, to consider their sins of false witness, pride, and ambition." His hand clasping the pectoral cross of the Abbot at his breast, he added, "Especially ambition. Bread and water once a day, I think, Brother Petrus." He stepped down from his chair and came over to Cadfael. "No doubt, brother, you would wish to confess to me again, upon re-entering the Abbey?"

Cadfael nodded, saying, "Yes, Father Abbot. Thank you for your just and kind judgment this day."

"Nonsense, brother, it was all a lot of fuss over nothing. After your confession, you must tell me some of your adventures. I am longing to hear about the time you talked to King Stephen!" The lips, which Cadfael now noticed were rather worldly, smiled. "Is our Dread Lord indeed the paragon of manly beauty as he is bespoken?"

Later that afternoon, after having confessed all to Father Abbot and being absolved with a copious penance still much lighter than he would have predicted, Cadfael retired to his herbarium. Brother Oswin joined him there, helping him stir pots, telling him all the gossip that had happened in the two days Cadfael had been away.

As the day grew dim and he began to put his pots away and hang up his herbs for drying, Cadfael heard a cough in the doorway.

"Back to normal, then, Cadfael? Every herb in its place, every bottle on its shelf, every monk in his cell?"

Cadfael did not need to look up to see Hugh standing there lounging against the doorframe, thumbs looped through his sword belt. He did, though, and gave a small smile in return for Hugh's insolence. "Indeed, my lord Beringar. And are all your chicks in a row at home? Aline and your son?"

"They're well." Hugh came in then and stood near Cadfael at the worktable, toying with a bottle stopper. "Are you well, Cadfael? Are you happy? Is this truly where you wish to be?"

"Yes, Hugh. I am well, I am happy, and I am in the only place that I have wanted to be these last few years. I have the grace and glory of God. I have you for a friend." Hugh's smile was wry. "I have my health still, and I am of use to my brethren and the townsfolk of Shrewsbury. That is all I require in this world to be happy." Cadfael looked for a moment into Hugh's eyes and smiled, with all the love and affection he felt for this dear man shining in his face. Then he turned back to hanging up his herbs.

Cadfael sensed Hugh's eyes on him for a moment. He felt Hugh's hand squeeze his arm and then Hugh was gone. Cadfael closed his eyes for a moment and let a moment's sadness wash over him. It was gone soon enough though, and he continued his work until the bells rang for Vespers.

 

 

 


End file.
